With Broken Hearts and Bitter Grief
by Natalia Mir
Summary: They knew it could never be enough. Past and present Hogwarts students say goodbye.


_I. Sweet dreams, mine own _

* * *

The summons arrived while they were still sleeping. More precisely, while his Dora and their child were still sleeping. He contented himself by admiring his beautiful wife and child so peaceful in sleep. A part of him was still very much in shock- a family, his family- and yet he couldn't help that nagging worry that it was all about to be ripped away from him.

It was quite fascinating how quickly that tiny fear became reality.

The summons came neither from Kingsley, nor from Arthur Weasley but from an old student of his. The charmed galleon had burned strongly against his hand as he clutched it tightly against his chest. His other hand was ensnagged just as tightly with his wife's. The galleon had but one word written across it- showtime. Neville did always have a flair for the almost hilarious dramatic, Professor Lupin recalled fondly.

Fitting that he would fight to the last with those same students he had instructed so very long ago. Hogwarts was their home just as much as it was his, no matter how many of Voldemort's followers swarmed it in the hours to follow.

He turned his head ever so slightly to the left, his hand still clasped to Dora's. He couldn't bare to wake her, for he knew with certainty what would happen if he did.

She would go with him- claiming it was her duty to fight as an Auror and as his wife and as a mother. She would be right. But inevitably, her path would cross with Lestrange's. And there would be pain, and there would be death.

He gently extracted himself from her unconscious embrace, kissed her once more, yet did not wake her. The thought entered his mind before he could squash it- that this was her fight as much as it was his- but he fought it off.

He stood for a moment by the cradle next to their bed, glancing at his son so peacefully asleep. Knowing he did not have much time, he picked him up with care and cradled him against his chest. "My son," he whispered quickly " I must leave you now, but I am fighting for you. Sweet dreams, Teddy, sweet dreams."

After placing Teddy back in the cradle, he silently changed into his battle clothes and grabbed his wand. He then placed the still-warm galleon against Dora's chest.

He didn't want to be alone any longer. Even if it meant death for the both of them, he wouldn't say goodbye to her.

* * *

_II. A half the greater_

* * *

There was a time she wished she was not a twin.

This is her greatest regret. It was not a fleeting thought, it consumed her. Maybe it wasn't hate, but it was anger. Envy. Jealousy. She always felt under her sister's shadow. Her sister was bright, she was kind, and she was brave. A petty gossip and a coward was all she was. She hated her, and hated herself even more for hating her other half. Her better half.

But then the world fell apart, and she discovered her voice. The change started off slowly. A growing up, Padma called it. When the world turned cold, their father did too. There was a good man, somewhere deep inside him but he got twisted up in fear and confusion. Parvati couldn't stand the way he yelled at Padma. He could yell at her all he wanted to, but how dare he treat Padma like that.

Thus Parvati found her courage. As he grew angrier and more violent, she found her determination. And yet, she felt guilty that sometimes she wished she wasn't a Patil or a twin.

The world got darker still, and hope in Hogwarts flickered and nearly died. But then, the D.A. banned together once again. The empty spaces within their midst were tangible, but somehow this too helped their cause. Made them stronger. Parvati found her voice again, as it joined with her comrades in arms.

As soon as the thought entered her mind that maybe they would survive it, the battle cry sounded again. She could betray them no longer. This time she would fight.

Somehow, among the battle preparations and hustle surrounding the castle, she found herself alone once again with her sister. So many thoughts stirred in her head, so many apologies and last requests but no words came. Instead, Padma looked at her with her knowing eyes and grasped her in an embrace. "I am sorry," she whispered in Parvati's ear. "Don't you dare die on me."

Parvati nodded, tears for once refusing to form in her eyes. She never thought those would be their last words to each other. She hadn't said a word in response.

* * *

_III. The tears in my laughter_

* * *

They never said goodbye. They knew it would only be tempting fate. There was no need, anyway. They knew what they meant to one another. They had always known.

They were never lovers. They were not soul-mates. But for years, they had been good friends. It wasn't instanteneous. It wasn't flashy or noticeable, but it was real. They felt free to dance on each other's feet and make complete and utter fools out of themselves. Their laughter only increased as the years yielded more deaths and fears, even if tinged with sadness.

With the fall of the ministry and the rise of the Carrows, all did not go to hell. With everything left to lose, there were still so many people worth fighting for. And the D.A. became more than what even Professor Dumbledore could have envisioned. they became an army, a band of brothers.

But still, he could not bring himself to say goodbye to her. The tensions built up, and he realized it was only a matter of time before Hogwarts was ablaze with wand fire.

And the time came, but the farewell never did. But there was a moment, months before, an unmistakeable glimpse of something warm and momentous. It was soon after the hols, after Luna was taken. Everything seemed heavier, harder somehow. The D.A. was terrified, because if Luna could be snatched then anyone could.

Well, the D.A. was terrified but for one. Perhaps she was already used to having a giant bullseye on her back, or perhaps she didn't care, but whatever cautiousness Ginny had had before was thrown out the window.

Neville was emerging from the dungeons after potions class when he saw her across the corridor. Goyle had her arm locked into his, which was most likely more painful than it looked, escorting her to the bordering dungeon for a likely detention.

Neville looked at Ginny, and she looked right back. Then, she smiled and twitched her eye in a way that reminded him of a smirk. He couldn't help but mirror her movement. Hidden laughter even here. And that was it, that was the one moment. Their last goodbye was an almost smirk.

* * *

_IV. words are not enough_

* * *

It could be said that although there are thousands of ways to say goodbye, it would never be enough. Luna has no comment on that.

But, if she were to hazard a guess about this whole business, she would say precisely this.

Sometimes the worst goodbye is the best farewell.

Not that anyone else would understand. Except perhaps the lone Weasley twin with the hole in his ear who had been spending time with her recently. What was his name? Giles, Gruppert, Gred- no, it was George. He didn't laugh at her like most people did. Neither of the twins ever had.

But she had seen him smile at her once. Actually, it was more of a smirk. Anywho, smirks were such lovely goodbyes.

She sat next to George for a while after that, and he didn't look too put off by it. After all, Luna knew a little something about death. Goodbyes, no matter how insufficient they seem, provide an adequate send off to the world beyond. Even if one does not believe in the afterlife as she does, goodbyes remain one of the most honest expressions left to humanity, precisely because of their insufficiencies.

Anyways, it was only those who have known love- fragile and painful and broken and hauntingly beautiful- who could never say it.


End file.
